Chapter 57: At Last, We See Each Other Plain

Author's Note: My music suggestions for this chapter are "Ranbu Escalation" by Gaku Sano and Yutaka Kobayashi and/or "Toki no Hana / Flower of Time" by Kamen Rider Girls, both from Kamen Rider Gaim. "Numquam Vincar" from the Madoka soundtrack is another great choice. "The Confrontation" from Les Mis is in there too, naturally.

-VERTEX ONE: 15.556984-

Underground

Azabu-Juuban, Minato Ward, Tokyo

The last time she saw Sayaka Miki face to face, Homura Akemi was in the process of being thrown from her position as absolute ruler of her universe, forcibly being taught that she wasn't nearly as invincible as she thought she was. Being stabbed by Sayaka in the classroom, she realized, was the tipping point which sent things spiraling out of control. The next few months were a long, slow fall from grace, culminating in the removal of her Devil powers, the baring of her sins to the multiverse, and the destruction of Madoka's trust in her, all in succession. A headfirst plunge into absolute despair... an abyss she still struggled to climb out of. As she fought and clawed for every tiny step upward, she found that Sayaka faded from her mind almost entirely. What was far more important was to rebuild herself from all the countless broken pieces, then after that to rebuild her relationship with Madoka.

She discovered some unexpected things in herself during the process of reassembly: humility. Knowledge that she was not the sole recipient of all the suffering in the multiverse. The possibility of an existence apart from Madoka, something she once thought unthinkable. A sincere desire to better herself, not for Madoka's sake but for her own. And a few other things, as well. There was still a long, long road ahead, of course. As one of Hotaru Tomoe's many Western poetry books said: And miles to go before I sleep...

But now Sayaka was here, right in front of her, more determined than ever to make some foolhardy stand for her beliefs. More determined than ever to get herself killed. At the sight of her, all of Homura's new goals for self-improvement receded to the back of her brain, replaced by a familiar exasperation that was the hallmark of most of their meetings. Sayaka was in her way, again, and there was no time, no time to entertain her and her infantile tantrums. Homura clicked her tongue in disgust and moved her hand toward the edge of her shield.

Only a few millimeters into that motion, a charge went off from the arch above. The din of its detonation was magnified by the indigo crystal walls of the offshoot tunnel. Not anything comparable to one of her own bombs, but—

Her shield arm shuddered, struck by an impact. Something slammed into the clockwork buckler and stuck there. A cutlass blade, and only the blade, for the smoking hilt and pommel remained in Sayaka's hand. Its point was wedged into the clockwork, preventing the gears from turning. Sayaka moved, a blue streak of motion... she swooped down before Homura, grasped the blade with both hands, and heaved. A ringing snap sounded through the offshoot. The blade came away, bloodied from her palms, but the very tip of its point remained stuck. It was nothing she couldn't fix given a few minutes to focus, but for now, that small shard of steel was enough to disable her greatest advantage...

"Sorry," said Sayaka. The heel of her boot drove into Homura's stomach like a kick from a horse, barely softened at all by her shields. "I won't let you run away this time. If you try to take out that shard, I'll cut your hand off."

Homura sank to her knees, wheezing and trying not to throw up. There was a twisted poetry to it, she supposed; she remembered doing the same thing to escape from Sayaka during her imprisonment inside her own Witch's Labyrinth. Doubtless Sayaka remembered too, though she never thought her much for poetry. As she heaved, she glared daggers at her foe in silence. Sayaka didn't deserve the dignity of a response.

"I knew something was off when I saw the Witches 5's footage of you up on the street," said Sayaka. "You put on a big light show and scared them plenty, but you didn't kill them... you just let them go. That's not something the Devil would do. You'd have ground them into dust for touching Madoka if you were still able. Mimete's report told me I was right: all that power you stole from her... it's gone, isn't it?"

That, at least, deserved a comeback. "Actual deductive reasoning. It's a miracle. Sayaka Miki has learned to use what passes for her brain."

Homura was sure that would rouse Sayaka's temper, but she remained calm. Worrying. "Since Madoka's here and not back as the Law of Cycles," she said as she paced back and forth, a cutlass trained on Homura's position, "she doesn't have it either. And you'd never give the power back, not by choice. Which means someone or something took it from you. Whoever or whatever that is..." Her features twisted into a scowl. "Well, I'll just have to find that out. Gotta give them points for irony, though. Not so much fun being on the receiving end, is it?"

Enough was enough. Homura righted herself and brushed off her battle costume. "I don't need to justify myself to you, and I don't have time to listen to your prattle. You wasted your chance to leave here unharmed. If I have to kill you to complete my mission, I will." A bluff, and a gamble at that. Explosives were too dangerous to use in the close confines of the offshoot, which offered little cover. The rest of her arsenal was depleted from facing the Death Busters. Activating her AMP Device was a last resort; the less the enemy knew of its abilities, the more effective it would be. If she fought smart and ended this quickly, she could still conserve weapons for whatever horrors lay in the lab. However, Sayaka's magic lent itself well to extended battle. Without her time-stop, her bombs, or her AMP, and using only non-lethal means, how to put her down? There was always the Remington and those shells—

"No," said Sayaka with a small, tight smile, as if she could read Homura's mind. "I really don't think you will, because you know Madoka would never forgive you for it. Otherwise, you would have done it the second you saw me. Face it, Akemi, you're trapped. The only way you get through those doors is through me."

Inexplicably, Homura shivered. She buried the sensation, scoffed, and flipped back her hair. "You never once won against me, any of the times we fought in any of the timelines. Do you really think you have what it takes to kill me?"

"Kill you? No. I'm not here to kill you." There was brutal sincerity in Sayaka's eyes. "I'm here to find out for myself if you meant what I heard you say to Madoka when the twins made you fight each other. I saw their footage of your fight, see. I need to know if you really are sorry for what you did to her, and to us. If you're not, you will be. You're gonna answer for everything... and I'm gonna beat the shit out of you, remorse or no remorse."

They paced around each other, two lionesses eyeing the same kill. Slow, careful circles, each daring the other to make the first move. Tension hummed in the air like the voices of a choir, the atmosphere between them seemed ready to explode at any moment...

Sayaka smiled, grim and pleased. "You have no idea how I've waited for this, the hell I've been through to get here," she said, "but it's all worth it. This is exactly how it should be: no god or devil powers, no Witches, no Joker or Madoka to come between us, no one to get in our way. Just you and me on the same level, one-on-one. A fair fight."

Homura raised an eyebrow. Her fingers inched toward the back of her shield. "I won't hold back. I assume you won't, either."

"Wouldn't dream of it, transfer student."

"So be it." And that was all; whatever other options there were to avoid this outcome, they were now tossed to the wayside. Perhaps this battle was inevitable after all, but it didn't matter. Sayaka came barreling at her, and Homura raised her shield arm to block the first downward slice of her cutlass. Metal met metal, and the sound was like that of a great church bell, tolling doom for all who heard it...

This had to end quickly. Sayaka's blade had barely struck when Homura pulled her Desert Eagle from her shield's pocketspace, aimed for her opponent's ribcage, and fired. Sayaka was sturdy, but she was no Mockery. Even with magic protecting her, the savage force of the .44 magnum punched a bloody crater through her chest, pushed her back half a meter, and left her gasping. Homura wasted no time, she aimed down her sights for Sayaka's left knee—

—only for a white satin cape to swoop between them, disrupting her aim. She fired anyway, and knew before the recoil thrummed up her arms that the shot was wild. It wouldn't have mattered, for Sayaka's cape deflected the bullet... it pinged off the fabric and struck one of the crystal walls with a high-pitched, glass-like sound. Homura's mind raced, she made to squeeze the trigger again...

The Desert Eagle bucked in her hands, but not from recoil. Something struck it head on before it could fire, its weight felt wrong. A split-second glance found a miniature cutlass wedged in the barrel up to its hilt. Her brain could scarcely register her bewilderment... it didn't have time, for Sayaka was upon her, already recovered to near-full strength. Two deep slashes to her chest carved visible furrows in her shields. On the third, she deflected the blade by striking it in mid-swing with her now-useless Eagle, but the impact tore the gun from her grip and sent it clattering to the floor. As she scrambled for it, another, larger cutlass slung itself through the trigger well and stuck there, pinning the Eagle in place.

Clever, Homura thought as she withdrew. Astonishingly clever by Sayaka's standards, but it had to be a fluke. One of her few remaining smoke grenades was next out of the shield. She yanked the pin and flung it right at Sayaka's face, hard as she could. Inelegant, but it would do.

Sayaka's instinct, the one Homura bet on, would be to slash it in two. That she did; the grenade detonated just the same, if with a bit less force, filling the offshoot with black smoke. Homura darted backward three meters, leaped up to one of the overhanging arches, and crouched, bracing herself for her opponent's bellows of protest and clumsy flailing at anything that moved. The smokescreen wouldn't give her long, but if it bought her enough time to remove the damned shard, it would do. She turned over her shield arm and felt for sharp edges in the clockwork.

Her nerves sang a high, sharp note of danger that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Long, thin shapes whooshed down past her ears. Shadows of half a dozen more from the offshoot's ceiling... floating cutlasses, damn her! How on earth did Sayaka anticipate her movements? The high ground was unsafe; she flung herself off the arch and took cover, hugging the wall directly beneath it to reduce her profile. Impacts thudded through the crystalline structure as the blades fell like rain, both on the arch and around it on either side. All she needed was a minute or two to repair her shield, she raised her free arm—

The next cutlass hurled out of the smoke cloud like a guided missile, it sliced the upper part of her right wrist with such ferocity and speed that her shields couldn't fully compensate. A small spurt of blood, and sharp, stinging pain a half-second later...

Three meters away, gusts of wind blew the smoke away from Sayaka in an expanding circle. Somehow, she knew exactly what Homura would do and where she would go. There was no bellowing, no flailing, not even a few token expletives. There was no sign of the loud, reckless, quick-tempered Sayaka Miki that she knew on that face... just that same frigid, dispassionate stare of measured rage she had worn since Homura first laid eyes on her. "You still don't get it, do you?" she said in an even tone that was alien to her voice. "After all this time, I got smart. I could have stepped in the moment you showed yourself, or backstabbed you when you were weak from finishing off the twins. Any time and place at all. I chose to fight you here and now because I knew this tunnel would level the playing field. I've been ready for this fight for months. Everything I've done since you and Madoka left Mitakihara, everything I've been through, it was all for this moment.

"If you still had Madoka's powers, I was gonna bring AM/IF Generators to knock you down off your high horse. Just in case, though? I put everything I know about how you normally fight into our battle simulators, and I ran those simulations in every spare hour I had. I had sword fights with the SWORD Card, Dark Tender, Kumojacky, even Joker himself, and I trained until my hands bled. When I couldn't hold my swords any longer, I was in the palace library looking up tactics, countermeasures against ranged weapons, diagrams of modern guns. I studied night and day to learn exactly how to take you down.

"Do you get it now, Akemi? I've changed. I'm not the Sayaka Miki I was before. Sailor Mnemosyne gave me back all my memories of every timeline. Everything I ever did, everything I ever felt got blasted back into my brain at once, and it's all still there, in crystal clear detail like you wouldn't believe. I close my eyes and I relive every bad decision, every failure, every time I got myself hurt or killed or turned into a Witch. When I saw for myself just how stupid I always was, I swore that I'd never be that Sayaka again. I swore I would take what I saw and learn from my mistakes.

"So what you're looking at now is the best version of me there is... the best version there can be, made out of the best parts of all the Sayakas who failed. I put in the work, and I've changed... but you?" Her eyes glistened, hard and cold as sapphires. "I don't think so. Devils like you can never change. Devils like you..."

And in that moment, as she clutched at her injured wrist, something stirred in Homura, the last thing she ever expected to feel when facing Sayaka Miki: actual anxiety. She was used to considering Sayaka an annoyance at best. The Sayaka she knew was always more a danger to herself than anyone or anything she fought. Sayaka didn't plan ahead, Sayaka didn't use tactics. She was forever charging into battle unprepared, reliant on brute strength and her advanced healing magic. Her only idea of strategy was to lay into her opponents in a berserker rage and only stop when they were in pieces at her feet.

This girl in front of her—this calm, vengeful soldier who disabled her shield and saw through her strategies with scornful ease—was not the Sayaka Miki that she knew. To think that Sayaka was even capable of all this... the realization sent Homura reeling, upending her worldview. Black was white, night was day, and Sayaka Miki was a threat.

Breathe, she thought. Breathe and stay calm. Keep her talking, keep her distracted. "So with that newfound knowledge," she said, "with that desire to learn from your mistakes, you chose to turn traitor and side with Joker... as his lapdog, so I hear. You're dooming yourself and all of existence to settle a grudge." The corner of one lip turned up; it might as well have been a sneer of contempt. One of the best ways of driving an opponent to distraction was to anger them; while she talked, she applied healing magic to her injured wrist in as clandestine a manner as she could. "Brilliant. It seems to me you're the same as you always were." Surely that would get a rise out of her.

It didn't. "I did what I had to do, for Madoka's sake," said Sayaka. "I was the only one who could do it. Sounds like déjà vu, doesn't it? It should; I had our universe's best example to teach me how to betray my friends. Now, are you gonna fight me properly, or do we have to waste more time first? I was under the impression that you're in a hurry."

The words stung more than Homura cared to admit. Focus, Homura. Focus. "You're exactly right. If you won't get out of my way..." Out came her Beretta, which erupted with half a clip's worth of semi-automatic fire. Seven shots, three to each shoulder and one to the forehead—

Steel moved faster than the naked eye could follow. Three shots were deflected by the flat of Sayaka's blade. Three punched pen-sized holes in her left shoulder, and the last... Sayaka craned her neck to one side, blood gouted from the side of her head and streamed down her upper jawline. The lower half of her right ear was gone, only a ragged red edge of flesh was left, yet her only reaction was a subdued grunt as she clapped her hand over the wound. For all the bullets seemed to affect her, they might as well have been from a paintball gun. She strode forward, but slowly, with all the confidence in the world. As Homura watched, rings of blue light inscribed with runes and musical notation manifested over her ear and shoulder. The entry holes in the latter didn't simply heal over... they ejected the three spent bullets with enough force that Homura could hear the tinking as they bounced and rolled to a stop on the crystal floor.

Half a clip still left. Homura took aim again—

Sayaka launched herself like a shot from a cannon, her cutlass winked in an arc. Two seconds later, the forward half of the Beretta's barrel slid off from the rest of the gun at a diagonal angle, as clean and precise a cut as one would see in a samurai movie. This time there were no slashes, she reared her free hand back in a fist and hammered Homura in the jaw. Nor did she stop there; the next impact was with the cutlass's blunt pommel, which smashed into her opposite cheek. The ultimate insult from a swordfighter.

Stumbling backward, barely able to see, Homura dropped what was left of the Beretta. Two of her best guns ruined beyond repair in a matter of minutes, she thought through the bleary haze. The Sayaka of old would never have managed that. How did she...?

"Come on!" Only then did her mask slip. A hint of her boisterousness returned in a frustrated shout that buzzed in Homura's aching head like an alarm. "Is this really the best you can do? Is this what the mighty Devil's been reduced to? Cheap shots and cheap tricks?" Slash, cutlass blades raked her chest. "Or maybe without your tricks and your stolen powers, you're nothing!" Slash. "You're nothing, but you still think you can look down on me, after all you've done...!" Slash. "After all the lies you told!" Slash. "After all the people who suffered and died because of you!" Slash. "You know why I'm winning, Akemi?! It's because I had the guts to face my mistakes and change myself! All that talk to Madoka about how you're sorry and how things will be different from now on, and here you are, still with the same guns, the same bombs, the same time magic, the same shitty better-than-you attitude!" Slash. She summoned a second cutlass to her free hand... "It's all bullshit, you haven't changed one BIT!" On that last word, she carved a ferocious X-shaped blow in Homura's midsection with both blades at once, the swordpoints leaving cobalt contrails in the air...

And Homura fell, fragments of AMP's shielding disintegrating around her like remnants of fireworks. No more protection from it; until her Device repaired its functions, she would have to fuel any defensive measures with her own magic. Somehow, she caught herself before she could slump completely to the floor, dropping to one knee instead. She heaved, her stomach afire with pain, unable to right herself...

"Shields down, huh," said Sayaka, dripping with scorn. "Must be from those new toys we've seen you people carrying around. I guess I'm gonna have to take one back for the scientists to pick apart." A chilly steel edge bit softly into Homura's neck and drew threads of blood. "You really want to make things right with Madoka?" That unsettling calm, that evenness, was back. "Prove it. Prove that you can change. Prove to me that there's more in there than obsession. Prove that you're capable of thinking about something other than what you want. If you can't do that, you don't deserve her... you don't deserve anyone."

"You..." Homura wheezed. Her fingers twitched.

"And I think you know that," said Sayaka, soft as silk on leather. "I think you know, deep down in that black hole that passes for your heart, that you don't deserve her... and you can't stand it."

"You... know... nothing." Homura enunciated each word as clearly as she could. On the last, she thrust the small black object she pulled from her shield into Sayaka's bare thigh, and jammed the trigger with her thumb.

Four-hundred thousand volts coursed through Sayaka in dancing arcs, delivered via electrodes from the compact stun gun to her skin. Her scream took on a warbling, distorted quality, her limbs jerked in uncontrolled spasms, the cutlasses slid from her slackened grip and fell by her sides. Homura held on, her thumb never leaving the trigger. At this voltage, sustained contact would kill a human. Not a Puella Magi, though, and certainly not Sayaka Miki. She held on, ignoring the steady blackening of Sayaka's skin and the acrid stench of burning hair... she held on until the stun gun's lithium battery was spent, and Sayaka's charred, smoking body toppled to the floor with a resounding thud that lingered in Homura's ears for longer than it should have.

What was it she was feeling? Anger, certainly. Impatience. Frustration. All typical when it came to Sayaka. Added to the old familiar cocktail of emotion was a tiny twist of genuine amazement: Sayaka went through meticulous preparation to set up this battle between them, and made sure to account for almost everything, just as she herself would have. That iron-willed determination to succeed at all costs, damn the consequences... it was disturbingly familiar. Perhaps even a little pitiable.

But no, thought Homura as she climbed upright and shoved Sayaka's limp form out of the way. No matter how much work she put in for this, no matter how legitimate her grievances were, Sayaka brought all of this upon herself when she turned traitor. Feeling sympathy for her was dangerous as well as stupid. And in the end, Sayaka didn't matter, all that mattered was her mission. Up on her feet once more, she flipped her hair back and turned toward the elevator doors. Three kilometers down, Mimete had said. Even if the elevator was a high-speed model, that was no small distance. The ride would give her more than enough time to repair her shield on the way. She staggered toward the doors and reached again for the shard stuck in her shield's clockwork.

A blackened hand seized her ankle in a vice grip. "You're—" breathed a strained, heavy voice from below, "n-not g-going anywhere." A razor edge slashed her calf almost to the bone, her leg buckled beneath her...

And Sayaka was atop her, pounding away, merciless. From her vantage point, Homura saw charcoaled dead skin slough off before her eyes. Multiple burns healed over into smooth patches of shiny red, and the distended blood vessels in Sayaka's eyes shrunk back to their normal size. Fists rained down like a hailstorm. Sayaka was faster than she was, and physically stronger. Long-buried instincts awakened as the unarmed self-defense lessons that Homura taught herself during the time loops surged belatedly back to her brain. Counterattacks, redirections, a million little tricks to make sure Sayaka's blows landed anywhere but their intended targets...

This was no longer a fight between tacticians. This was a brawl, pure and simple, an ugly thing that took on a snarling life of its own. Jockeying for position, they tumbled across the faceted floor, two intractable enemies entwined in a savage display that would just as likely kill them both as leave one the victor.

"You fool, Miki!" Homura spurted. Her mouth was filled with the coppery taste of blood. "Are you this determined to die?!"

"YES!" Sayaka roared in her face, and flecks of spittle accompanied her outburst. "I want to go back! I was happy there! And you had to ruin everything!"

"I know, and I regret it, but I had no choice! Your happiness came at her expense!"

"That wasn't your call to make! It never was!"

"You were happy in my world too, don't try to deny it!"

"It wasn't real!"

"It could have been, if you had only let it be!"

"As your puppet? As your slave?!"

"As someone alive!"

There was no response, only a primal howl as Sayaka slammed her against the tunnel wall, an impact that reverberated through every facet. For the moment, both combatants rested, battered and torn. Magic flickered over their bodies like laughing streams to seal their wounds...

Sayaka risked a glance down at her Soul Gem, half-darkened. She muttered something too quietly for Homura to make out, probably a curse, and reached beneath the shoulder of her cape. There was a small, glossy black diamond clutched between her fingers when she withdrew them, about the size of her thumbnail. When she tapped its surface with her fingertip, a Grief Seed dropped into her open hand. "That's right," she smirked and wheezed as she applied it to her navel. "The techs... took some inspiration from you. Got a couple dozen more of 'em in here... Dead End has a steady supply. And you?"

"Just one," said Homura. Into her shield she went. The last of the four Grief Seeds Madoka and Sakura collected came back out. "It's enough." Once her own Soul Gem was cleansed and the Grief Seed tucked away again, she dragged the back of her hand over her mouth. It came away smeared red. "All right," she said. Then again, stronger this time: "All right." She burned inside, but not merely from pain or injury...

"Gonna fight me for real?" said Sayaka, piercing blue eyes glaring through her bloodied bangs.

"Yes," said Homura. "Since it seems I have no other choice, I'll give you exactly what you want, Miki... and more. And when I strike you down here, we'll know once and for all which of us can change, which of us can move on."

Sayaka tensed, materialized another cutlass, and held the flat of the blade toward Homura. She was up on the balls of her feet, her stance suggested she was prepared to either deflect bullets or dive out of the way of them.

Homura almost smiled. "I have changed." Slowly, carefully, she rolled up her left sleeve. Underneath was something so shiny that it gleamed even in the offshoot's dim light, but which also shone from within with its own glow. It was a shackle, an old-fashioned manacle like a prisoner from centuries past might wear, clamped around her left wrist. Were it not for its glow, it would have appeared to be made of pure silver... but that glow was a steady, flickering ochre from its center, like a small fire was sealed within the metal. She brushed her fingers over its surface... the shackle was heavy, deliberately so, but it was warm. Always warm...

"I wear this silver as a reminder," she said. "Its weight is the sins of my past. But its light, faint as it may be, is the future I must fight to earn. From now on, both my pain and my promise shall be my weapons... my sword and shield." And she spoke solemnly to it, spoke the name that was dear to her heart: "Pay penance, Chandeliers d'Argent."

Chandeliers d'Argent did not speak; it played a sequence of seven wistful chimes, three down the scale and four back up it. The shackle clicked open and unwound from her wrist like a river of liquid mercury, then flowed into the palm of her right hand, where it waited in an amorphous state. Her AMP Device was designed to be unique in its construction: three parts Immaterial to every one part mimetic alloy. More fragile than its brethren, but not more fragile than its bearer.

"Shan..." Sayaka stumbled over the pronunciation. "Shan-de-li-eis... Dar-jaun? The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Homura.

A scoff. "Oh, so it's something to do with how tragic you are. Should have known."

"No," said Homura. Again she was tempted to smile. "Quite the opposite."

"Well, if you think I'm scared of some metal blob...!" Sayaka charged, her sword parallel to the floor...

... and with a ringing sound—if striking her shield was the deep toll of a church bell, this sound was softer, more melodic, a bell played by a choir—it was stopped by another edge. Homura now held not a shapeless piece of metal, but a gleaming silver longsword. It was a simple but elegant design, straight-bladed, with a crosstree hilt and a globe for a pommel. The light of a small fire pulsed from within its blood channel, halfway down its length.

There was astonishment on both sides, for very different reasons. The moment that the two blades met, the indigo crystal that composed the offshoot tunnel lit up all at once... and the expanse of space was there with them. Within the facets, multitudes of stars dotted a rich, dark tapestry of the interstellar void, shining with a brilliance that couldn't be seen anywhere on Earth: massive blues burning hottest of all, whites and yellows like the life-giving Sol, orange and red and brown supergiants nearing the ends of their lives, and little white dwarfs on the verge of collapse and transformation... There were great billows of cosmic gas, swirling nebulae large enough to swallow planets whole, comets blazing their merry trails... They were still within the offshoot; its walls were still there, the floors were still there, the ceiling still hung close overhead, but the lines defining them all had turned phantasmal, as if they were not quite real.

"What—" Her advance forgotten, Sayaka let her cutlass point drop and gaped in wide-eyed awe and confusion at the starfield, all around them and under them and above them. "Wh-what the hell just happened?"

And Homura couldn't help gazing at it a bit herself. The vista of space—or pseudo-space, or whatever it was—triggered perhaps her most bittersweet of memories. She swallowed a lump in her throat and wet her suddenly dry lips to speak. "Truthfully... I was about to ask you the same question."

Again they circled, but now their eyes were on the stars rather than each other. Their steps were audible; the floor was still quite solid. As shocking and honestly beautiful as the tableau was, the novelty of seeing it wore off quickly... there was still work to be done. Homura hefted d'Argent's blade, and when she met Sayaka's gaze again, she knew that her opponent was thinking the same thing she was: whatever was happening to the offshoot didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except for finishing the fight.

Homura's eyes narrowed. Visible over Sayaka's shoulder, the elevator doors were still there at the end of the tunnel, outlined in wispy grey. To go through those doors and complete her mission, she would face down not only Sayaka, but Joker himself and every monster and demon in his army. She would not fail, not again. Determination burned within her breast like a torch... and she swore she saw an identical torch glow in Sayaka's eyes for just an instant.

This time, there were no taunts, no insults, no battle cries, no words at all... just a mutual understanding between bitter enemies. A breath, a rush, and Sayaka's cutlass met d'Argent's longsword, throwing off sparks and flashing with the radiance of the endless cosmos as they crossed...

*****

"Akemi-san, you're sure you don't want one?" Behind her glasses, Doctor Mariel Atenza's brows crinkled. "All the other Lights already have theirs... except the Aces from our Vertex, of course—"

"No," said Homura. She pushed the case containing the iridescent, metallic orb back into the doctor's hands. "Give it to someone who needs it. I'm not one of the Morning Lights. I don't need to rely on anyone or anything else, and no one else needs to rely on me." With that, she flipped back her hair and turned on her heel, striding out of the office without a second thought.

*****

Hotaru Tomoe was back, for reasons Homura couldn't fathom. She sat next to her against the blank white wall of Homura's room, in silence this time, as she ran her fingers over a small pink charm that hung on a silver thread around her neck. The face of a cartoon rabbit, by the look of it.

"You like it?" said Tomoe, bringing it into the light. "Doctor Atenza and I finally finished programming it yesterday."

"Hmph. So it's one of those," said Homura.

"Well, yes," said Tomoe, "but this one's special. It's not like the others."

"Aren't all of them unique?"

"Point taken, but. Mine is the ultimate last resort. I'll only activate it when there's no other option."

"A weapon you're not willing to use is useless," said Homura, not bothering to conceal her scorn. "Why would you even need one?"

So Tomoe told her.

Homura stared at her, open-mouthed with disbelief. "Absurd," she said. "You're out of your mind. Why would you purposefully design such a thing?"

"Because," said Tomoe with infinite grace as she tucked the charm back inside the neck of her black blouse, "if it comes down to it and it's the only way to stop Joker, I'll gladly make that sacrifice. Even if it means my life."

"Why?" said Homura. "You have so much to live for... a family. A partner you love, and who loves you. Friends who care for you. Duties to the universe. Why would you throw all that away? Why would you sacrifice even a moment of that happiness?"

And Tomoe laughed, a sound like summer raindrops. "I have a feeling you've said things like that before, Akemi-san."

Faint color bloomed in Homura's cheeks. "That's not the point. Answer my question."

"Because it's the right thing to do," said Tomoe. "Because I may have to. And because I know that I'll always get another chance to start over. Another tomorrow."

"Silver candlesticks." The words floated through Homura's mind and tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Tomoe leaned in, her amethyst eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, you know that story?"

Homura turned away, embarrassed... not that she would let Tomoe know that. "No. Fantine mentioned it once."

"Hmm," said Tomoe.

*****

She was back again, pressing a heavy, paper-wrapped bundle into Homura's hands. "For you," she said.

Homura took it and frowned. "What is this?"

"A gift. A book," said Tomoe. She smiled. "I know it's awfully long, but I think it'll really speak to you."

Puzzled, Homura unwrapped the paper. Beneath it was a thick, leather-bound tome, more than a thousand pages by the look of it. "Tomoe..."

"I wish I could have given you a real antique copy, sorry." Tomoe shrugged. "I had to make do with what the replicator could reproduce. The text was all in the Athra's database... Admiral Lindy uploaded a lot of classic literature to the Bureau after she and her family moved to Earth. Anyway, the words are what are important. Please, take it. Read it."

To her own considerable surprise, Homura did.

*****

And again and again, she came back. First once, then twice, then eventually thrice a week.

*****

"I thought you said you didn't want one?" Doctor Atenza looked up from her desk console, bewildered.

"I changed my mind," said Homura. "Can you make another?"

Thankfully, she didn't question it. "Of course I can, I just need the specifications. Exactly what you want it to do, what you want it to look like, what name and commands you want it to respond to..."

So Homura told her. She told her everything... well, almost everything. She left out any and all mention of the person who had inspired her to do this.

When she was finished, Doctor Atenza stared at her. "You're... you're sure that's how you want it to operate? I could understand if you were a Sailor Senshi or a Precure, but for you—"

"Yes," said Homura.

"I warn you, it'll be difficult. With your circumstances, I'd estimate that it'll take far more effort to use than anyone else's, except for Hotaru-chan's..."

"That's the point," said Homura. "This is what I want. I'm sure."

*****

And when it was finished, when she took Chandeliers d'Argent in her hands for the first time, saw the fire dance and flicker within its pale silver curves and felt its pleasant heat suffuse her body... Homura knew. How strange it was; the realization would have appalled the old her. It was both welcome and melancholy, relief blended with deep yearning, one unable to be discerned from the other.

Following that moment of clarity, she had another as she held d'Argent close: it was far more than just a weapon. What it signified—what it meant, and the reason she made it the way she did—was something almost sacred. d'Argent's small flame wasn't much... but its warmth would keep her going, and its light would hold the darkness back.

She could change. She could start again.

*****

Bathed in the light of faraway stars, they danced, and soon, their differences became clear: Sayaka had the advantage in raw strength, stamina, and experience. Powerful as d'Argent was, Homura had only been training with melee weapons for several months, while Sayaka had the equivalent of a decade or more of usage, in addition to her training with Dead End. She was also proficient in wielding two cutlasses at once... twice as many opportunities to inflict damage. d'Argent's longsword form was two-handed, slower, and heavier, capable of serving as a bludgeon as well as a slashing weapon if need be. Its blade length and width compared to the cutlasses made it far more suitable for defense, and that was fine. Training or not, Sayaka's default method of combat was to rely on overwhelming offense. It made sense; she had advanced healing powers and was well-practiced in shutting off her body's sense of pain... what Kyoko called the "pain switch" on occasion. With those abilities, she didn't need defense.

Razor edges tore gashes in her shoulder, Homura winced and deflected the blades to prevent further injury. She had to concede, the ones who trained Sayaka knew what they were doing. Even a relative amateur swordswoman like herself could see how much smarter she fought now. Her opponent was relentless, using every hit she took as another opportunity to pay it back double. To Homura's senses, the notes made by their blades clashing began running together, a long and monotonous song. This had to end quickly. For now, she could give roughly as good as she got, but unlike her opponent, all Sayaka needed was one disabling blow and she would be done for...

No, Homura thought to herself, raising the flat of the longsword to block a double overhead strike. She wouldn't think like that. There was a warmth inside her, a secret source of strength that she had and Sayaka didn't. As they danced, she focused on that warmth... and found that as she did, d'Argent became less and less heavy...

"Tch!" said Sayaka through gritted teeth. She spawned a cutlass and hurled it at Homura's side. "Never thought I'd see you with a sword, Devil! How many more people can you stab in the back with that thing, huh?"

"That's not what it's for." Homura sidestepped it and bashed it to the floor as it flew past. "I told you, you wouldn't understand."

Again their blades locked in an X-shape. The two drew in close to each other, their eyes met...

"I'll only say this once more," said Homura, perfectly calm. "Get out of my way or I'll be forced to make you regret it." It wasn't her usual stoicism, either. She felt... contentment. A peace of mind that made the fight easier, not harder, as it went on.

"You know I can't just let you go!" Sayaka snarled. By contrast, the more Homura parried and feinted away from her attacks, the less she seemed able to keep up that coldness from before. Fury seeped through her façade like heat through a pane of cracked glass. "I've waited too long for this, and I won't lose to you in a swordfight!"

Good, Homura thought. Keep fighting defensively, it's working. When the opportunity presented itself, she scored Sayaka's face, or her forearms, or the exposed parts of her stomach, but always with shallow cuts, never a decisive blow. She kept the dance going...

"Goddammit!" spat Sayaka after a few more exchanges. "You still won't fight me with all you have?! What's the matter with you, am I not worthy of your best?"

"It's not that. You've done well," said Homura with total honesty. "You've changed, and for the better... but so have I."

"Oh, if I hear you say that one more time...!" She broke off and skidded two meters backward. "You want change?!" One cutlass dematerialized into ether as she tossed it aside. Like a bullfighter, she drew her cape around herself. "Change this! SPARK EDGE!" Sayaka's feet left the ground. Cerulean streams of magic unfurled from the point of her remaining sword, she gripped its hilt with both hands as she launched herself toward Homura at blinding speed, a human rocket.

Even Homura's reflexes weren't quick enough to deflect it or dodge, not at that distance and velocity. Only one choice. She tucked her sword arm into her chest, reached for the warmth within, and thought with all her might of how she felt the first time she saw her smile...

CLANG. The strike that should have impaled her was stopped dead and repelled, centimeters from contact.

The look on Sayaka's face could only be described as flabbergasted.

There was a shield on Homura's arm. Not her clockwork buckler, but a heater shield, of the kind a European knight might carry. Its silver surface gleamed with starlight... there was now a pronounced dent in its middle, but otherwise it was flawless, mirror bright even without the small flame flickering in its core. And as Sayaka gaped from the floor, the heater melted, flowed back as a mass of mercury into Homura's right palm, and grew three branches... one long and thin and straight, the other two curved prongs. It solidified once more, different than before, but its color, its texture, and the soft fiery glow within it were all unmistakable: it had been both the heater shield and the longsword. It was d'Argent, morphed into a sai.

"That's—" Sayaka sputtered and attempted to pick herself up. "Th-that's not... you can't do that! What the hell is that thing?!"

Homura only smiled a faint smile.

"No." An animal growl tore from Sayaka's throat. "No, you don't get to just walk all over me again! I trained and I studied and I slaved to learn how to beat you!"

"And you would have," said Homura softly. "Retreat, Sayaka Miki. This fight is over."

"Not a chance...!" She was back up again, cutlasses in both hands. A phalanx of them appeared hovering over her shoulders... and as she charged, they charged with her.

Agility. Dexterity. Blocks and counter-movements. Fighting with a sai was as different from fighting with a longsword as driving a car was from riding a bicycle. This form, in truth, was the one she probably had the least amount of practice with. But wielding a sai gave her some very specific advantages. She ducked and weaved around the floating blades, far easier to do with a lighter weapon. And when Sayaka lashed out at her with a mighty thrust, she caught the blade in between the sai's prongs. A flick of her wrist, and the blade snapped in half. Sayaka seemed briefly puzzled by the half-sword she now held.

Homura thought of how it felt to sit in near-total darkness with her, illuminated only by the soft glow of antique lamps, and honestly discuss her feelings for the first time in ever. How it felt to hear no judgment in return, no criticism, no how-could-yous or you-should-haves. How there was only quiet, blessed acceptance.

A blunt end slammed into the underside of Sayaka's chin. Now d'Argent was something akin to a naginata, the deadly, crescent-shaped blade pointed at the floor. Knocked nearly senseless, Sayaka staggered backward... and, using the new form's long reach to her advantage, Homura pressed her, slamming the blunt end into alternating sides of her face each time it looked as if she was recovered from her daze. Little by little, Homura drove her back, back toward the elevator doors... she was so close, just a bit more...

Too far. Sayaka bellowed with rage and summoned a full two dozen cutlasses, two to her hands and the rest at her sides. She threw out her right arm and she sent them flying...

Not good. A thought, and d'Argent morphed back into heater shield form. Deflecting the first six cutlasses was easy enough, they were hurled all in a rush. The following ones varied their trajectories, swooping high, then low, then midrange... One of d'Argent's limitations was that it couldn't morph into anything with more than five kilograms of mass, due to its unique construction. Spread it too thin, and it would tear itself apart. Morphing it into a wall or a shield large enough to protect her whole body was not an option. With the storm of blades ongoing and no viable cover, the only choice was to reduce her profile as much as possible, try to guard all her vital areas and hope she withstood the rest... Homura drew herself in, raising and lowering the heater in time with each volley as best she could. Sharp edges sliced her calves and ankles as they passed, her knees buckled...

At last, Sayaka tired. The storm of blades petered out. Bloodied plenty, Homura rose shakily to her feet, casting magic to seal her numerous wounds. Sayaka always did burn through magic faster than any other Puella Magi Homura knew, so it only made sense that—

"No," said Sayaka from the end of the tunnel. Frigid and dispassionate once more. "You and I aren't done, Devil. Not yet." A sinking feeling clutched Homura's heart as she drew the small black diamond from beneath her cape again, producing another Grief Seed. She pressed it against her Soul Gem, and the darkness drained from it, leaving it sparkling blue once more. "You better hope your Dar-jaun or whatever has more tricks than that, because I for one can go at least ten more rounds."

More tricks. In that moment, Homura had it. She knew what she could do to end this fight. Straightening up, she flipped back her hair... and smirked, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing Sayaka tense up at the sight. "As it happens," she said, "it does. I've warned you enough times, Miki, more times than you deserve. I will not let you or anyone else stop me."

Sayaka leaped back, on the defensive for once, her cutlass blade's flat facing forward.

d'Argent morphed back into longsword form. Homura thought of simply seeing her again and brought it to bear, its point aimed straight up at the tunnel ceiling. She turned, presenting her profile to Sayaka, and shifted the hilt into her left hand. Solemnly she raised the sword, reaching for the stars above, and whispered, "Requiem Violetta."

The sword erupted with light, a violet cascade of it that rushed down the blade in spiraling streams that widened as they went. Though it still appeared insubstantial, that dazzling radiance reflected in the tunnel's crystal walls. Facets magnified the light, a chain reaction... the longsword sang steadily a rising tone...

Sayaka howled squinting into that light and raised her own blade: "Come on, bring it! Whatever you've got, I—"

In a smooth motion, Homura spun and made a 180-degree turn... and while Sayaka was still laser-focused on the blade in her left hand, with her other she aimed at Sayaka's midsection with the Remington shotgun she had smuggled from her shield while its underside was out of her sight. Only one chance to get it right, but it would work, it had to. She squeezed the trigger.

Thunder pealed through the tunnel. The impact of the 12-gauge shell's contents blew Sayaka clear off her feet and reduced the chestpiece of her costume to so many bloody ribbons. It was a scant few seconds before she sat back up yet again, healing magic already at work, incandescent with hate. "You bitch! If you think—" Only then did she start to scream, clawing at herself in a frenzy. More and more splashes of magic raced over her, but none of it would help her now...

"Halite," said Homura, edging closer as she ejected the spent cartridge. d'Argent shrank back into shackle form on her wrist. Of course she hadn't programmed it with an elaborate, dramatic finishing move; the light show was only that. Sayaka had her head stuffed full of hero stories in which such things were tantamount to sacred rituals, and she was a devotee of Mami Tomoe, who always did the same thing. Of course she never questioned the ruse for a moment. "Otherwise known as rock salt. Non-lethal, but effective. It's quite easy to acquire, and a simple matter to replace the lead pellets inside a shotgun shell with it. I hoped to use it on the Death Busters, but it's more than enough to incapacitate you. The grains are embedded in your flesh... keep healing yourself, and you'll only suffer more."

Sayaka shot her perhaps the most venomous glare she had seen from her since... well. "Y-you..." she panted between seizing fits of fresh agony. There was already a magnum bullet wound through her chest, and even if that wound was healed, the area had to still be tender. Salt was now in there, and in her other injuries too, no doubt. "You...!" Most likely she didn't know a word foul enough to finish that sentence. Not that she could have, as she collapsed face down on the tunnel floor a moment later, drawing great rattling breaths.

Above and around them, the stars began to fade. Some winked out, others simply petered, becoming less and less until they were one with the blackness that surrounded them.

Homura allowed herself a rare sigh, then finally, finally eased the metal shard out of her buckler's cogs. A quick test confirmed that they turned just as they should. It was over, victory was hers. The logical thing to do now would be to leave immediately, without another word... too much time was already wasted.

Somehow, though, the sight of Sayaka lying there twitching felt less like a victory than she thought it would. There was a curious disquiet in her heart, a feeling that something just wouldn't be right if she left things as they were. d'Argent felt heavier on her wrist...

Homura shook her head and turned her shield over. In grayscale, she crossed to where Sayaka lay and fished in the folds of her cape, withdrawing the glossy black diamond. Some kind of storage device, obviously. Prodding it with her fingertip produced a Grief Seed, which she used on herself. After a moment of thought, she retrieved another and laid it down on the floor, within reach of Sayaka's hand.

She would survive. That much was certain, but despite her agony, Sayaka wouldn't give up... at any moment, she could regain enough focus to activate her "pain switch" and render Homura's efforts to disable her moot. There were a number of ways to prevent her from following, some of them far more unpleasant than others...

Homura frowned.

Searching within her shield's pocketspace produced a SIG Saurer P220, another find from one of her JSDF base raids. Not at all one of her favorite pistols, but a generally dependable one, and minus her Beretta and Desert Eagle, it would have to do. She loaded it with a fresh magazine, crouched down, and tossed Sayaka's bloodstained cape away to expose her back.

For this to work, she would have to be a precise distance from her target, to within a few centimeters. Homura took a number of steps backward, drew a bead, aimed down her sights, and fired. The bullet flew three meters, hit the edge of her time-stop field's area of effect, and came to an instant halt... hovering almost exactly where she intended it to hover, centimeters over Sayaka's lumbar vertebrae. That done, she doubled back down the tunnel to retrieve her ruined Desert Eagle. Repairing it might still be an option, she didn't know, but it didn't need to be fired to fulfill this function. Returning to Sayaka, she flipped the heavy pistol so that she held it by the barrel and positioned its butt over the frozen Saurer bullet. A few practice swings, rather like a golfer warming up... and then she slammed butt into bullet as hard as she could. That would have to be good enough.

When she came out of time-stop, Sayaka jerked once, then lay still, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Dammit, what was—" Her fingertips scrabbled at the faceted floor as horrified realization dawned. "I... I c-can't f-feel my legs... I c-can't feel my legs! Wh-what the hell did you do?!"

Out of weapon range, Homura knelt down and spoke softly. "You and I both know that you'd chase me to the ends of the earth if I let you. If you focus and shut off your body's sense of pain, you'll heal, in time. There's a Grief Seed next to you."

"Agggh..." With strenuous effort, Sayaka pushed herself up onto her elbows and flipped over. Calm descended on her, no doubt the "pain switch" activating. As she panted for breath, she shot another hateful glare at Homura. "Go ahead. You've got a perfect shot, so kill me. Shatter my Soul Gem, right here, and end it all. You can tell Madoka it was an accident or something, I don't care."

Homura shook her head. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no?!' What kind of sick game are you playing?"

Homura swallowed and spoke three words she thought she'd never say to Sayaka Miki. Words that came as easily as cutting off one's own limb, she suspected, but... "You fought well," she said. "Far better than anything I expected of you. When I said you would have won, if not for d'Argent... I meant it."

Sayaka's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. She was speechless.

"You lost, but you were a worthy opponent," said Homura. "Rest, and train yourself for next time."

"Bullshit," Sayaka spat, full of venom. "I know you, this is another trick and you just want me to suffer! You're a coward, a liar, and a devil, Akemi!"

"You're exactly right." Homura stood up, a faraway look in her eyes. "I am all of those things. My actions made Madoka suffer, and I regret that. My actions drove you to Joker, and I regret that as well... you have every right to hate me, and you have every right to want to kill me. Part of me would welcome it."

"No." Sayaka shook her head and made a fruitless attempt to sit up. "I'm not hearing this. Not from you!" Her eyes blazed. "When Joker used the entity... those were my memories that everyone saw. Those were my feelings when I saw you tear Madoka apart! No matter what you've gone through, nothing excuses that! Stop giving me this self-pitying crap!" Panting and straining, she propped herself up on her elbows. "I gave up everything to get revenge on you, and I failed. So do what you always do when someone keeps getting in your way... kill me."

Homura stood firm. "No."

"Dammit!" One of Sayaka's hands curled into a fist. "Goddammit... why are you even doing this?! Do you even know who's down below?! Professor Tomoe and the Time Reaper and Eas, and god knows who and what else! Madoka's not even there, so why walk in there alone? Are you trying to kill yourself...?"

Silence, save for their breathing.

"No," said Homura again. She placed her hand on the sleeve covering d'Argent. "I can't die without trying to set things right. I don't know if that's even possible after what I've done, and I still have far to go, but I made a promise to try. You should know as well as anyone: when someone precious to me is in danger, I'll do everything in my power to protect them. Always."

Sayaka's brows knit together in confusion. "But... but Madoka—"

There was nothing left to say. Homura strode to the doors, pressed the control, and stepped inside when they parted for her. The elevator car began its long, long descent in silence, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

*****

Grunting and heaving, Sayaka turned herself over once more. Better to save the Grief Seed until after she tried this, she had no idea how much magic it would take... but if it worked on her shoulder, it should work on her spine, right? Closing her eyes, she concentrated with all her might on the small of her back, on the leaden invader lodged in her vertebra. Sweat dripped from her brow. All her healing power, directed at that one spot.
Tink, went the bullet, dropping to the crystal floor. Within a few seconds, stirrings of feeling came back to her upper thighs... Sayaka breathed a sigh of relief and pushed herself face-up again. Her powers could handle the rest automatically... though there was nothing she could do about the salt. Injuries and foreign contaminants, those her magic could seek out and eliminate, but there was already plenty of salt in her body before being shot. Unspeakably exhausted, she reached for the Grief Seed, clutched it in her hand, and pressed it to her Soul Gem. Once it was cleansed, she just lay there, breathing hard and so very tired...

Huh, she thought, staring up at the facets above her, mostly indigo crystal once more, with a few scattered stars still in the process of flickering out. She could faintly see her reflection in a few of those facets. Not like the real sky. In space, there were always stars dying, but always more to ignite in their place. Far to go...

END OF CHAPTER 57

NEXT:

LIKE A PAPA TO ME

[Author's note:

For more magical girl goodness, please check out my Pa*treon at bhsdesk! You can now get some pretty amazing rewards by pledging very small amounts!

You can also show your appreciation and help me out by keeping the Shattered Skies: The Morning Lights pages on TVTropes updated! Additionally, you can donate at Pay*Pal [pp-dot-me-slash-bhsdesk]... or check out all my other stuff at [wlo-dot-link-slash-at-bhsdesk]. If you like this chapter, please consider tossing a few bucks my way, it'll be of great help!

And remember, comments and detailed feedback are an author's food pellets, so leave plenty! - BHS]